For most of the UK, today is the first day of Eid. Eid mubarak. Kullu aam wa antum bi khayr. May you and your whole year be blessed! Bajram sherif mubarak olsun.

Today, I find myself indescribably happy. For some reason, I feel as though I’m about to burst open with joy. This is partly because it’s Eid and partly for other, more personal, reasons. I feel as though a burden has been lifted from my shoulders. I’m not even sure what that burden is. I just know that, for some reason, I feel lifted, liberated and incredibly happy. Praise be to God in every condition and in every state.

I am reminded by something the Imam said at the khutba this morning. Eid is one of the signs of Allah. In a sense, it is somewhat like the rain after a drought. And, although the drought is necessary for the health and growth of my soul, I am happy and grateful that the rain of mercy has come!

May Allah bless each and every one of us. May all that you do this day lead you to goodness, mercy and compassion!

One of the things most people notice when they first read the Quran is just how different from the Bible it is. For those used to reading the Bible, with its broadly chronological approach, the Quranic text can appear to be disturbingly confused. Passages extolling the majesty of God sit side by side with descriptions of ethical values, stories of ancient prophets and legal pronouncements on a wide range of topics.

In part, this is caused by our expectations as readers. We approach the Quran with a biblically-influenced idea of what a religious text should be and look like – and thus the very different format and style of the Quran can cause confusion. A common reaction is that the Quran thus lacks unity, being little more than a confused jumble of different materials. But, this is to expect one book to behave like another.

A closer reading demonstrates all sorts of thematic, stylistic and spiritual unities. As I was reading the Quran recently, I came across one such example. I offer my own reflections on these two passages as I found them both profound and helpful.

And Allah knows best…

‘O you who have attained to faith! Be patient in adversity, and vie in patience with one another, and be ever ready [to do what is right], and remain conscious of God, so that you might attain to a happy state!’ (3:200)

‘O MANKIND! Be conscious of your Sustainer, who has created you out of one living entity, and out of it created its mate, and out of the two spread abroad a multitude of men and women. [1] And remain conscious of God, in whose name you demand [your rights] from one another, and of these ties of kinship. Verily, God is ever watchful over you!’ (4:1)

The first passage is the last verse from the third chapter. This verse comes amid a number of verses referring to the difficulties faced by the earliest Muslim community in Medina, under intense pressure from both the Meccan elite and some of the surrounding tribes. It exhorts the Muslim community to patience in the face of adversity. Indeed, it urges that Muslims vie with each other in being patient – to make patience (sabr) their very watchword. Bearing the stresses and strains of life with patience helps to create a quiet, still space in the centre of our hearts that we might be ever conscious of God – and attain to a goodly state.

The next verse is the first of the fourth chapter (Surah al-Nisa). Amongst other things, this surah deals with all sorts of legal injunctions regarding marriage, inheritance and the care of orphans. A number of very detailed injunctions are given – all of which are designed to promoted justice and fair dealing within the primordial Muslim community, a task that requires both immense patience and that small, still space within the heart (where the unfolding plan may be thoroughly thought about and reflected upon).

The verse starts off by naming its audience as the whole of humanity: ‘O Mankind! Be conscious of your Sustainer…’. If the last verse begins with an appeal to the Muslim community, in its specific attempts to live through trying circumstances, this verse is aimed at the whole of humanity. That is, here humanity as a whole is asked to reflect upon both its shared origin and shared connections. It is this shared humanity which should inform how we interact with each other. And beneath this shared human heritage lies the very same small, still space – consciousness of God (taqwa).

Dealing with the demands of others requires patience, especially in maintaining strong family relationships. Allah! The ties of kinship require patient care and attention, rather like a gardener’s constant husbandry. And, when we think of demanding our rights, we should vie with each in patience, aware at all times that God sees all that we do, think and feel.

Patience, then, is crucial to spiritual growth. So is gratitude. To be conscious of God, in the terms explored in these verses, is to be conscious of all that we have been given. Acting with patience is thus an act of gratitude in itself – in which we show our thanks to God by acting patiently in both good times and bad. To be patient with life and to be grateful for all that it offers are thus the deeper themes alluded to so powerfully in these verses. Allah!

‘Say: ‘Whether you conceal what is in your hearts or bring it into the open, God knows it: for He knows all that is in the heavens and all that is on earth; and God has the power to will anything’ (3:29)

I try to do my daily zikr on the train to work. I have about an hour by myself each morning – time and space enough to reflect on the coming day, to seek nearness to God and to simply gaze out at the beautiful world which Allah has created.

This morning’s zikr found me looking out of the window at the sun-kissed hills of South Wales. My eyes were drawn to these far hills and to all the trees sprinkled liberally over the distant heights. Today’s zikr felt both unusually strong and surprisingly light, as if the zikr itself danced lightly over the tree tops. Thus, as I continued to repeat ‘Allah, Allah’, I suddenly realised that were I to walk along the hill tops the same inner sound would ring out in all the the secret spaces between branch and leaf.

As I continued to look at this sun-filled scene, I also realised that the entire univerese moves to this same rhythm. All things move to this beat. All things speak this Name, in secret tongues that I will never hear and do not know.

And God says in His noble book:

The seven heavens extol His limitless glory, and the earth, and all that they contain; and there is not a single thing but extols His limitless glory and praise: but you [O men] fail to grasp the manner of their glorifying Him! Verily, He is forbearing, much-forgiving! (17:44)

Ramadan is the month of the Quran. And so, during my own readings, I’ve noted down those verses which seemed to speak to me. Insha Allah, I will post these verses and offer a few thoughts on them and what they seemed to say to me during the coming weeks.

The first one is drawn from the third chapter of the Quran (3:5). The text runs as follows

This ayah is very powerful. In its succinct way, it powerfully underlines the idea that God knows all things. Moreover, God sees, hears and is aware of all that happens, whether it be in the heavens or upon the earth. All that we/I do is visible to God. Furthermore, the inward motivations behind our actions are also clearly visible to God. Indeed, God knows these motivations better than we do ourselves. God is the Hidden (al-Batin) and God is the Manifest (al-Zahir). Thus, we can hide nothing from God.

In moral terms, therefore, God’s awareness is meant to guide us towards ethical action/interaction. That is, it forms (or should form) a barrier within ourselves against unhelpful deeds. To understand that nothing is hidden from God helps draw a clear boundary between what is good and what is not. The Prophet (alaihi al-salatu wa al-salam)refers to this boundary in the following hadith:

On the authority of Abu ‘Abdullah al-Nu’man bin Bashir, radiyallahu ‘anhu, who said: I heard the Messenger of Allah, sallallahu ‘alayhi wasallam, say:

“Truly, what is lawful is evident, and what is unlawful is evident, and in between the two are matters which are doubtful which many people do not know. He who guards against doubtful things keeps his religion and honour blameless, and he who indulges in doubtful things indulges in fact in unlawful things, just as a shepherd who pastures his flock round a preserve will soon pasture them in it. Beware, every king has a preserve, and the things Allah has declared unlawful are His preserves. Beware, in the body there is a flesh; if it is sound, the whole body is sound, and if it is corrupt, the whole body is corrupt, and behold, it is the heart.” (Al-Bukhari & Muslim). Source

If this ayah underlines human moral boundaries, it also illustrates divine mercy. That is, if God is aware of our unhelpful deeds, then He is also aware of our strivings towards goodness. Our attempts at repentance stand clear in the sight of Allah, regardless of how ‘small’ we may ourselves perceive them to be. In other words, God knows our intentions and will judge us accordingly – as the Prophet himself (alaihi al-salatu wa al-salam) underlined in a very famous hadith:

“Actions are (judged) by motives (niyyah), so each man will have what he intended. Thus, he whose migration (hijrah) was to Allah and His Messenger, his migration is to Allah and His Messenger; but he whose migration was for some worldly thing he might gain, or for a wife he might marry, his migration is to that for which he migrated.” (al-Bukhari and Muslim). Source

And my response to these manifest blessings? Awe at the infinite majesty of God. And, gratitude. Deep, heartfelt gratitude. So, praise be to God in every condition and in every state.

What am I seeing when I look into the face of another? Am I seeing them, or a reflection cast through the prism of my own eyes? Is it ever possible to truly see another human being, in all their manifest humanity? Can I ever actually see me? Is my vision of myself merely another reflection? Is this all a human being is?

Is this one of the meanings behind the Quranic idea that God is the light of the heavens and the earth? That is, God is the light and I am naught but the palest and most ephemeral of reflections, a dusty piece of glass striving to become a mirror.

Am I then just walking in a vast hall of mirrors, as each person reflects some other essence? Is becoming fully human thus a process of becoming ever more transparent, that God’s light might work its transformation within our deepest selves?

Allah! We have entered the last ten days of Ramadan. The beautiful Night of Power lies hidden somewhere within these blessed days. Veils fall away during these days, so it is said. We have only to turn our gaze towards our innermost heaven and we shall, insha Allah, see the descent of peace – God’s peace beyond understanding. May we all be fortunate enough to receive this grace.

As I travelled to work this morning on the train, my thoughts turned towards laylat al-qadr. What struck me, as I gazed out upon the beautiful hills of South Wales, was that this is a time of re-dedication. The appearance of the Night of Power offers the opportunity to re-connect with God, the Blessed Source of All. It is a time for the renewal of relationships, a renewal of the bonds that join us to the Beloved.

So, it is with these thoughts in mind that I seek to consciously dedicate myself to God. I ask God for His aid in walking the straight path and I ask for His forgiveness for every forlorn and unhelpful deed.

Ya Afuww! Erase my every sin. Ya Hadi! Guide me to path of true service to You. Ya Rahman! Have mercy on me, all the days of my life. Ya Allah! Pour out Your blessings into my waiting hands and the hands of all those who stand in need of You.

Every saturday during this Ramadan, my family and I have attended the iftar programmes run by the West Wales Islamic Cultural Association (based in Carmarthen). We both think of this part of the world as in some sense ours. I became a Muslim in the nearby university town of Lampeter (10 years ago now). My wife and I first met there as students. We met many of our closest Muslim friends there and we lived and worked at the European Institute of Human Sciences for some 3 years or so. West Wales is thus my Muslim ‘homeland’ and so going back there always evokes memories.

As we drove along the A48 yesterday evening, we were greeted by a glorious sunset. The sun gently lowered itself beyond the horizon in a blaze of red flame, as the surrounding sky slowly turned all to silver glass. I suddenly realised that this would be a perfect, and gentle, way to die: to simply fade slowly into the beautiful night. Now, lest anyone think me morbid, this did not strike me as something to fear – in any sense whatsoever. As we looked into the sunset I found myself thinking, ‘just as the sun of my life will set so, as God wishes, will it rise once again’. It was almost as if I realised that some kind of sun is always rising – even though I may never see it.

The evening itself was most enjoyable. We met up with some old friends, listened to an interesting talk on Islam and the environment (by my wife’s old Islamic Studies lecturer) and had a fine meal. And then, as we drove home, we were treated to another of Allah’s most beautiful signs: a softly glowing moon above tree-covered hills. Allah!

I spent last weekend in London, at my in-law’s house. Members of my wife’s family have recently returned from 3 weeks in India. Ma sha Allah! Although they enjoyed the holiday, I got the feeling that they were rather disappointed with the experience. That is, they felt the differences between life in the UK and life in India to be rather jarring. That said though, they brought back lots of nice photos, which I’ll be posting here insha Allah. It was a nice weekend. I fasted on Friday, in preparation for Ramadan and as usual, I experienced that old caffeine withdrawl headache! Ouch! This came as my in-laws played host to a wedding proposal visit – so I was not my usual self. Allah!

We came back on Sunday evening, and I was feeling increasingly tired – and also ill. Since then I’ve been unwell, with a kind of flu-like bug. At any rate, I’ve not yet been well enough to fast. Not being able to fast in Ramadan is a strange thing – I find myself feeling guilty because of it. Although I had to come to work on Monday and today, I’ve remained pretty much inside the office (except for essential meetings). Nor have I yet been able to go to the special Ramadan prayers (tarawih). Tomorrow, insha Allah.

But, even though I’ve been unable to fast, I realised something about myself recently. I came to realise, after reading this hadith, just how very far I have to go. Although these thoughts are first filled me with sorrow, after they rolled around in my head for a while I came to a different conclusion: truth can be uncomfortable, but it is liberating. If am to transform myself into that which I should be, then I must know myself now, as I am at this moment in time. I must not run from this truth. I must accept it, reflect upon it and then act. To run from this truth would be to lie to my innermost self, and that would be to invite madness. And I was also struck by the realisation that I do not look into my dark half alone. God stands there beside me, bidding me see my shadow that it might be re-integrated at last.

Following a recent recommendation, I have been reading Surah al-A`raaf of late. Surah al-A`raaf is the seventh chapter of the Quran. I have found the following recitations, by Sheikh Mohamed al-Mohysani, on You Tube (with English language translation) and so I want to share them. Insha Allah, I will add my own reflections on this powerful chapter shortly.

Following on from sister Aaminah’s Grateful to Allah Blog Carnival, here are a few things I am sincerely grateful to God for. As you will soon notice, given that Ramadan is fast approaching, this particular list consists of all my favourite foods! Allah!

Clean, cold water on a hot day

Milk

Lassi/Laban: produced in many parts of the world, this is a drink made from milk and yoghurt. Sometimes with sugar (yum), sometimes with salt (yuck) and often with fruit (double yum)!

Olives and olive oil: I truly, madly, deeply love olives and olive oil. Olives come in all shapes and sizes, and all of them are lovely!

Cherries, apples and grapes: these are 3 of my favourite fruits. We don’t get cherries all of the time and so when we do, they don’t last long! My children love apples, as do I. I grew up in London with a small apple tree in the garden. My in-laws have a huge apple tree in their garden. Grapes are delicious and the occasion for much humour in our house: both of my daughters enjoy biting them, sucking the juice out of them and passing me the remnants!

Mangos: my wife’s family say that Pakistani mangos are the best in the world, ever! Based on my own experience, I would probably agree (though I’ve not had many from elsewhere). Mango eating is a delicately crafted ritual in my in-laws home: my wife and mother-in-law sit down, out comes a wickedly sharp knife and before you can say ‘bismillah’, a plate of neatly sliced mango pieces are produced. I like to eat the skin – though my wife says that it’s disgusting.

Humous and taramasalata: I love both and so does my wife. Fortunately, neither seem to be very popular in Merthyr and so there’s often lots of it in the reduced section of Tescos.

Freshly cooked, warm crusty bread: Allah! What can I say!

A traditional sunday roast dinner: a childhood favourite and great on any day of the week!

God draws us forth from ourselves, in spite of all our weary excuses, all our subtle turnings away. In spite of all our selfish urges, all our unhelpful deeds of sorrow, we are called to become what we were truly meant to be. In spite of all the shameful acts we have wrought upon the living face of Mother Earth, we are called to restore, to heal and to give back what we have taken without right.

But, in spite of Divine Mercy, we fear to render back the trusts we have been given. And herein lies both our weakness and our strength. When, in spite of our wrongdoings, we turn back towards the source then, in that moment, we will find God standing by our side, shouldering the weary burdens of life for us.

We are called by God to be more than we currently are – to become what we truly are. And in the hope-filled mercy of this call do I place my own heart, my own life and all that I may ever become.

During the last few weeks before the beginning of Ramadan, I often feel as though I’m dragging my weary soul behind me: ‘just a few more miles and we’ll be there’ I seem to hear myself say. In that sense, Ramadan is like the end of a race, a place of safety from which to look, all Janus-like, both backwards and forwards.

But then, Ramadan is also the beginning of a race – a race against the selfish dictates of the soul and a race of endurance in the face of privation and quietude. The first two weeks of Ramadan find me energised and enthused. As with any race, fatigue begins to set in towards the end and I find myself flagging. In the past, I’ve either ignored my failing stamina (and thus exhausted myself to the point of illness) or else I’ve slowed down, at exactly the wrong time.

The last 10 days of Ramadan are, in many ways, the most important of the whole month. Tradition relates that hidden amongst the odd nights of these days is the Night of Power/Decree (Laylat al-Qadr). Although many believe that this falls on the 27th Ramadan, there are a number of prophetic traditions which suggest it could be either the 21st, 23rd, 25th, 27th or 29th. Perhaps one possible reason for this indeterminacy is that it encourages us towards endurance, as if to say: ‘the finish line is close now – just this last sprint towards the finish line left’?

The 97th chapter of the Quran refers to Laylat al-Qadr. Here is an English language translation of the text:

We have indeed revealed this (Message) in the Night of Power. And what will explain to thee what the night of power is? The Night of Power is better than a thousand months. Therein come down the angels and the Spirit by Allah’s permission, on every errand; Peace!…This until the rise of morn!’ (Surah al-Qadr 97:1-5, trans. A Y Ali)

This night is connected with the original descent of revelation to the Prophet (alaihi al-salatu wa al-salam). It thus marks that time when Allah draws this world closer to the Eternal Realm, to the world beyond this one. Angels descend on missions of mercy: hearts are healed, souls refreshed and unhelpful deeds are forgiven. This might be one reason why it is explicitly said to be ‘better than a thousand months’ and that in it descends peace: the peace beyond understanding that heals all things.

How then can I find and experience this blessed night myself? This is the real question: how can I prepare myself to see it and witness it? I want to make the pursuit of laylat al-qadr my aim this Ramadan. I want to make it a time when I lay aside all thoughts of ‘I want’, to be solely in communion with God. To connect with God is to connect with the very ground of my (and all) being. It is to centre myself and then to use the energy from this moment to aid in the transformation of my heart, my life and my human relationships. Perhaps this is because laylat al-qadr offers me the opportunity to stand before God with all of my defences lowered, to stand completely naked before Hu – without turning or running away. By consciously and voluntarily revealing my dependence upon and vulnerability before God, I can (insha Allah) learn how to open myself to my human relationships. Thus, laylat al-qadr, as a time of communion, is also a time of sharing – of giving back to life all that I can, in honour of all that I have received from it. Ultimately, this is only race worth running!

Ramadan is a month of reflection and introspection. So, with that in mind, our worthy sister Aaminah has collected together a number of very useful Ramadan-related links. She is also hosting Grateful to Allah Blog Carnival, shortly after Ramadan concludes. In addition to the links she gives (and may God bless her for doing so), here is one of my own.

I am currently reading Nabil Matar’s excellent and interesting Islam in Britain 1558 – 1685. I have enjoyed reading this work. I love history and the author offers a thorough-going treatment of his topic, engaging fully with the primary sources as well as with modern scholarly literature. Interestingly, he situates his work within broader discussions of the relationships between the Christian and Muslim worlds, or between ‘west’ and ‘east’. Here is what he has to say:

‘In light of the Muslim impact on English commerce and society, it is not surprising that in their early modern relations with the Muslims, English writers did not express the authority of possessiveness or the security of domination which later gave rise to what Edward Said has termed ‘Orientalism’ … for only after the Ottoman Empire began its militart and intellectual decline in the eighteenth century did Europeans proceed to draw, paint, poeticize and imagine the Muslims in the way they liked. Only then did the lands of Islam become material for orientalist ‘construction’ and for continental and British colonization.

In the period under study, however, Britain did not enjoy military or industrial power over Islamic countries. Rather, the Muslims had a power of self-representation which English writers they had either to confront or to engage … Although many English and Scottish theologians and writers vilified and misrepresented Islam and Muslims in their works, they realized that Ottoman military power had a forceful impact on them and that the lands of Islam were beyond colonization and ‘domination’.

Nevertheless, twentieth-century historians and literary analysts of the English attitude toward Islam have ignored this element of power which Renaissance Britons associated with Muslims and through which they defined their relationship with them …

Herein lies the importance of the Renaissance perspective on Islam in Britain: from the King at Whitehall to a slave in an ‘Algerine’ bagnio, from the university theologian to the cabin boy, Britons recognized that they could not ‘take possession’ of the ‘Turks’ (pp. 11-13).

As an immediate reaction, I think this is a point well made by Matar. To assume the continued existence of essentialising tendencies is to essentialise both the ‘east’ and the ‘west’. That is, it is to remove both from historically contextualised analysis.

This book offers some challenging food for thought. As an Englishman and as a Muslim, I find myself challenged by some of the historical realities discussed here. Specifically, the fact that sailors from ‘the Barbary Coast’ were raiding the southern and western coasts of Britain – primarily as slavers it seems – makes me reflect in new ways. Being a white male has meant that I have come to learn about history from a certain vantage point. Although wealth and social class are often overlooked as key factors within English society, I am aware of the operation of white privilege. Looking at the events through another prism refracts things in new and unexpected ways. It draws out all sorts of awkward questions, some of which include: what relationship does social class, gender, religious belief, race, ethnicity and the power relationships inherent within such labels, have with my own self-identity? To what extent am I the person I am because of, or inspite of, such things?

These are important questions, and ones I cannot currently answer. Ahh … yet more food for thought then! Indeed, the path to true humanity leads through all sorts of interesting (and sometimes difficult) places. And to God returns all things.

At any rate, there are other aspects to the book that I have enjoyed. Insha Allah, I will reflect more fully on them at a later date.

The moon of Ramadan draws near. And so, as I have in previous years, I am beginning a Ramadan diary (2006; 2007). I will include all of my thoughts and reflections as I work through this month, and will post them here as often as time permits.

I tend to think of Ramadan as a month of safe harbour, a time to repair the rigging, sails and rudder of my soul. As Ramadan’s moon traverses through the sky, I am given time and space in which to review my life’s course and to chart new directions, to look for new possibilities. Ramadan is thus a time for introspection and looking inward.

It is also a time to look backwards, over the course of the past year. What did I do well? What did I do less well? Was I putting my effort into the right areas, or was my focus wrongly placed? To sum up the past year is also to look forward to the coming one. It is thus to ask: where am I going? What challenges do I need to rise to? What pitfalls do I need to avoid?

Ramadan offers me that time of safe harbour. It is a barometer of the soul, measuring the atmospheric pressure of my surrounding life – and of my responses to it. I like the image of a barometer and find it to be a very positive one: regardless of today’s challenges there is always the hope that tomorrow will be an easier day with better weather. Allah! The ship of my soul could really use a time of plain sailing!

So what challenges am I consciously aware of at this moment in time? Or, what do I hope to achieve during Ramadan? Here are some initial thoughts.

Balance: finding the right balance between my responsibilities and my desires, between my inner and outer lives, between religious practice and devotion, between spirit and the body it inhabits.

Space: ‘space’ is very much at a premium in my life right now. How can I utilise the space I do have to its best advantage? How can I create inward space where outward space does not currently exist?

Grounding: How can I continue to ground myself in the insights of the Islamic tradition? How can I ground these insights within my own soul? Or, to put it another way, how can I make them trule mine?

Love: growing in and with love is a challenge, one that I am sure will be life-long. How can I open myself more fully to God’s love? In what ways can I open myself that God’s transforming work might be strengthened? How can I improve my human relationships? How can I relate more fully to my self and to others? How can I let God’s overflowing mercy transform my human relationships?

These are some of the issues I find myself reflecting on as I sail towards the harbour. And beyond all things, all of these questions fade into one overwhelming desire: how can I grow ever closer to God, to Allah Most High?

Welcome

'Don't be more than others. So I urge my heart.
Go be a salve of kindness - make no one sting
If you would have no other do you harm
Bite no back - do no bad deed - keep no bad thought'

(Mevlana, Quatrain 993)

Wherever We Set Foot

'Wherever we set foot, it was Your street.
Whatever corner we turned, it was Your name in the air.
We said, ‘Surely there must be a road leading elsewhere?’
But every road we found, it led to You'
Isma`il Anqarawi

The Deeper That Sorrow Carves

'The deeper that sorrow carves into your being,
the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup
that was burned in the potter’s oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit
the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
(Khalil Gibran, The Prophet)

A Short Prayer

We give thanks for the light under which we gather. For our Pir, Hazrati Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi, and for the generations of seekers and guides that have come before us.

We pray for the health and well-being of everyone in this circle: our families, our children, our children's children, our friends, our
communities, and our world.

And we mention at this time anyone in need of healing. And may the light of this circle be received wherever it's needed.

By the breath of Mevlana, by the secret of Shamsi Tabriz, by the noble
generosity of Imam Ali, and with the blessings of Muhammad Mustafa, (our unlettered Prophet), let us say Huuuu. . . .

O Lord, Give Me Strength…

O Lord, give me strength to walk on the road of Unity.
Give me a yearning for the secret place of freedom.
Grant me an affection for the mystery of Truth.
Grant me freedom from the bondage of imitation.

Fayz Fayyazi

The Golden Words of Haci Bektas Veli

* Keep on searching, you’ll find the truth.
* Be patient in your spiritual quest.
* Whatever you seek, look within.
* Control your tongue, your hands and your sexual behavior.
* Being a teacher is to give, not to take.
* The greatest book to read is the human being.
* The universe is for man, and man for the universe.
* Any road that doesn’t follow science, ends in darkness.
* Science illuminates the paths of truth.
* Blessed are those who illuminate the darkness by their thoughts and ideas.
* Don’t hurt anyone, even though you’ve been hurt.
* Don’t ask anyone for anything that would be difficult for you to do.
* Don’t blame any nation or individual.
* The beauty of human beings is the beauty of their words.
* Don’t forget that even your enemy is human.
* Educate your daughters.

The First of All Commandments

‘And Jesus answered him, ‘The first of all commandments is, hear O Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord; And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and all thy soul, and with all thy understanding, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment. And the second commandment is like, namely this, thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. There is no other commandment greater than these’ (Mark 12:29-31)

That’s Why I Came

Let's say it with just one breath:
How can we ever say it more plain?
Let's dive into the ocean of love.
To dive into that ocean,
that's why I came.

Shah Hatayi

There You Are, by Asik Veysel

I hide Your beauty in my eye;
Whatever I look at,
There You are.

I hide Your presence in my heart;
How could a stranger live there?
There You are.

You are my foundation and my all;
My intimate one and the word on my tongue;
You bring the greeting from my darling one;
Within that greeting,
There You are.

All the blossoms and tender leaves
They hide their beauty in reds and greens
In night’s darkness and the dawn’s first beams.
As each one awakens,
There You are.

You are the one who made creation,
who gave life and strength to every being.
There is no ending except for You
I believe and accept what I am seeing:
There You are.

The flute moans ‘Huuu’ in ecstasy
The waves are roaring, the seas are rushing,
The sun appears to veil the stars
In its rays’ vast shining,
There You are.

You are the one who makes Veysel speak;
You are the tree and I am your leaf.
The unconscious fly right by what they seek.
In both the fruit and seed,
There You are.

Whoever Is Our Enemy

Whoever is our enemy,
May Allah him give great gain!
May he be given clemency!
May he all his goals attain!
Whoever’s tossed us in a pit,
May God protect forever!
Who tosses stones at us to hit,
May might embrace his endeavor!
Whoever’s prayed for us to die,
May eternal life suffice!
Whoever’s said in hell we’d fry,
May his abode be Paradise!
Whoever slanders us with words,
May the Prophet intercede!
Whoever defames Kaygusuz,
May vision of God be guaranteed!

‎'The sum total of our life is a breath spent in the company of the Beloved' Abu Sa`id ibn Abi al-Khayr

Rejoice, O Love!

'Rejoice, O Love, that is our sweetest passion,
physician of our many illnesses!
Relief from our pomposity and boasting,
O You who are our Plato and our Galen!
For Love the earthly body soared to heaven,
the mountain tool to dancing and to skipping.
When Love approached Mount Sinai's soul, O lover,
Sinai was drunk and 'Moses fell aswoon'
(Masnavi 1. 23-26)

The Mevlevi Rose Prayer

May this moment be blessed. May goodness be opened and may evil be dispelled. May our humble plea be accepted in the Court of Honour; May the Most Glorious God purify and fill our hearts with the Light of His Greatest Name. May the hearts of the lovers be opened. By the breath of our master Mevlana, by the secret of Shams and Weled, by the holy light of Muhammad, by the generosity of Imam Ali, and the intercession of Muhammad, the unlettered prophet, mercy to all the worlds. May we say Hu, Huuu…
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